A Heart as Loud as Lions
by Alana Abernathy
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy has two painful secrets: many years ago, before Draco's birth, she was forced by her husband to hide her daughters. Narcissa bravely left them in her sister's care, for her to raise them as her own. Something changes her plans, though, when her Draco isn't sorted into Slytherin, and her two daughters admit they weren't kept in the dark about their real identity.
1. Prologue: A Different Constellation

**A Heart as Loud as Lions**

**Prologue: _A Distant Constellation_**

Narcissa Malfoy had never in her life been grateful for the existence of the Muggle World before that day. She was raised as a pure-blood, and the concepts of blood status and blood superiority were her biggest beliefs. She despised muggles, muggle-borns and half-bloods. She was more than happy to live in the Wizarding World, surrounded by powerful and rich witches and wizards, but for once, at that exact moment, she found herself relieved and safe in the muggle town of Castle Cary, Somerset. She also had to admit to herself to be very pleased with her sister for choosing such a beautiful place for her home, although she was reluctant to give much space to such a thought.

Trembling with exhaustion and fear, Narcissa covered the distance between the abandoned church where she had disapparated and Andromeda's house, willing herself to hold on to her bravery for a while longer. She knocked, nervously, not fully knowing what to expect. A man opened the wooden door, and Narcissa shivered in the evening wind. She had a speech prepared, but not to him. She needed to talk to her sister.

"Narcissa? Are you Narcissa Black? I'm sorry – Malfoy? I'm Ted Tonks, your sister's husband, I believe we've met once. Please, do come inside."

He moved aside to allow her entrance, and she stumbled forward, squeezing the bundle she was holding closer to her chest.

Ted was a gentleman, she noted. He led her to the sitting room, offered to take her robe and to bring her something warm to drink – she refused both – and didn't ask nosy questions.

"Dromeda is upstairs with our daughter. She's got the flu and is having trouble sleeping. But she'll be here shortly."

Narcissa winced. Andromeda had a daughter. She and Bellatrix had both received a letter following the birth, years before, but she hadn't bothered to read past the second line. So, while she knew from the formal formulation, that reflected her sister's upbringing, that she was an aunt, she hadn't known Andromeda's child was a girl.

Narcissa cleared her throat, thinking it was time for her to talk. It was a particular situation, but she didn't want to pass as rude. "What's her name?"

"Nymphadora Electra Tonks. She turned four in the summer."

Narcissa nodded, wondering what she should say next. "This is my daughter," she revealed, showing the tiny baby to her brother-in-law. "I need your and Andromeda's help, Mr. Tonks." Narcissa did her best to sound nice. There was no denying it, she felt superior and she didn't like the Muggle World nor who lived in it, but looking around the house she had to admit that it was cosy, warm and way more than just decent. She could almost sense the happiness it was full of. Andromeda and her husband were her only choice, and they were a good one even.

"We'll be happy to help you, Mrs. Malfoy. If you will excuse me, I'll go get Andromeda for you."

Narcissa didn't have to wait more than a couple of minutes; before she could even get comfortable on the sofa, Andromeda was in front of her, and they were hugging each other tight.

"Oh, Cissa. I can't believe you're actually here. It's good to see you. I've missed you so much!" Andromeda's voice was an incredulous whisper, and Narcissa closed her eyes for a moment, lost in the familiarity of that loving sound.

"And who is this? Ted said you had your daughter with you. I didn't know you had become a mother! What's this angel's name?"

Narcissa couldn't stop herself: a single tear rolled down her pale cheek, and many others would have followed had she been used to expressing her inner feelings.

"She doesn't have a name," she stated with coldness, trying to regain her composure. "Andromeda, my husband isn't pleased by her gender. He was expecting an heir. A male heir. He was extremely... upset that I gave birth to a girl. Little does it matter that she performed accidental magic mere minutes after her first breath -"

Narcissa's explanation was interrupted by the other adults' gasps.

"She did? That's impressive! What caused it?"

"Lucius cast the Cruciatus on us. I didn't have my wand and I tried to shield her with my body but it wasn't enough. The baby conjured a shield and her magic pushed Lucius across the room and made his wand fly away. She'll be a great witch, someday." Narcissa paused, as a bitter feeling overwhelmed her. "Lucius said I had forty-eight hours to find a solution, after that he'd kill her. By this, he means she has to disappear – or die. We'll fake her death. I'm here to ask you to adopt her. There would be too many questions in the Wizarding World and I don't trust many people. As much as I dislike the idea of my pure-blood daughter here in the Muggle World..." she stopped again, regretting the last sentence. "I didn't intend to offend you. I apologize."

"Narcissa, you're a good person. You are what you were raised to be, but you're also someone very different, deep down. What your husband did to you, and what he's forcing you to do is horrific, horrible and abhorrent. But there isn't much that our society can do to help you. On the other hand, Ted and I will be happy to."

Andromeda flashed her a smile, and reached out to take the bundle from Narcissa's tense arms. "Can I see her, Cissa? My, she's beautiful. She has your eyes and nose."

"So you'll take her?"

"We'll be glad to, Mrs. Malfoy." Ted was also smiling, and Narcissa felt a painful jab at her heart as she pictured her sister's happy family.

"I'm so sorry, sister. Motherhood is a great thing and it's a pity your husband ruined it for you. I'd love to help you in some other way, but I can see there is none..."

"I know there isn't, Dromeda. That's why I'm here. Please, raise her as your own. And congratulations for... Nymphadora, wasn't it?"

Andromeda nodded. "Thank you. And Narcissa, you can come by and see her whenever you want."

"No," Narcissa disagreed, walking herself to the front door. "Lucius will monitor me close. He can't find out about her location, nor her name. Ever. I love you, Andromeda, and I'll miss you. I'll be forever thankful to you for saving my daughter from her certain death, but we can never see each other again."

_**x**_

Narcissa Malfoy breathed the air of Castle Cary. She was relieved to be there in the only place she truly considered safe. It was an exaggerated definition, maybe, considering it was only the second time she visited the muggle town, but to her it meant she was away from an everyday hell.

While the first time she visited Castle Cary it was mid-winter, it was almost October now, and she found it to be equally beautiful, if not more, considering she was seeing it in the light of the day. It was different, but also the same.

She walked more steadily, this second time. She knew where to go, and what to say, and what to expect.

This time, a little girl opened the door when she knocked.

"Hello." Narcissa said with a smile. "You must be Nymphadora, Andromeda and Ted's daughter. My name is Narcissa, and I am your aunt."

"Oh. Yes, Mum and Dad told me about you. You're Astraea's other mum."

Narcissa felt a lump in her throat hearing her daughter's name. As asked, Andromeda hadn't contacted her. It was the safest thing. But it was good to have a name for the little face that plagued her mind day and night. Astraea. It was beautiful.

"Indeed I am," Narcissa told her niece softly. "May I come in, Nymphadora? I'd like to talk to your mother and father."

"Mummy!" Nymphadora shouted once inside. Narcissa didn't like it, but she smiled behind the child's back. She also held back a laugh when the little girl's hair changed from brown to turquoise. Leave it to Andromeda to have a metamorphmagus daughter! "Mummy! Aunt Cissy is here!"

Narcissa hated to be called 'Cissy'. She had always been Cissy to her sister Bellatrix, and it reminded her of what the woman had become over the years, eaten alive by the Dark Arts. Narcissa was quite fond of them herself, but she knew when and where to cross a line. Somehow, though, the nickname suited her in that house, and it had another sound coming from her six-year-old niece.

Andromeda, like during her first visit, wasted no time in appearing in front of her and engulfing her in a hug.

"Cissa! _Oh_, Cissa. _Again?_"

Again, the lump in her throat. The jab at her heart. The tears that threatened to fall.

"Take her," she said, hoarsely, pushing the underweight baby in the other woman's arms. Her second daughter.

"I'm so deeply sorry, Narcissa."

"Never apologize for something you didn't cause."

There was a pause.

"You're right."

"I need to leave."

"You look weak. Let me get you a strengthening potion, first. Please."

Narcissa obeyed, and sat down, in the kitchen this time. It was as cosy as the sitting room. "Do you like playing with Astraea, Nymphadora?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"Mm-mh. I do. She's a cute baby. I like being a big sister. Do you want to see our bedroom?"

Narcissa smiled weakly as Andromeda came back in the room. "Another time, maybe. I'm afraid I must leave soon. But it was nice meeting you, Nymphadora."

"Dora, why don't you go get little Astraea? I'm sure your aunt is very eager to meet her."

"No." Narcissa rose at once and jerked away from her sister. "It was nice to meet you, Nymphadora." she added, with a small and forced smile. "Perhaps we'll meet again, one day. Goodbye. And thank you, again, sister."

_**x**_

_My dearest sister,_

_it is with great pleasure and immense joy that I inform you of my first son's birth. You now have a nephew, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, our little Heir. He was born a little earlier than expected – two full months – but he's as healthy as a baby can be._

_Once again I wish to thank you and your husband for all that you have done to help me and my – now your – daughters. Wish little Nymphadora a good seventh birthday from her Aunt Cissy, and tell her I send her a kiss. I hope she, Astraea and their little sister are all doing well._

_I'll put a picture of my Draco here in the envelope, but please, don't write back and don't send me any photograph. It will be hard enough as years pass and I watch Draco grow up, knowing I'll never be a mother to my two daughters. I hope that one day, when they attend Hogwarts, they and Draco can become at least friends, though not knowing the truth. It's for the best._

_I wish I had your strength, sister. The strength to admit my mistakes and detach myself from this world of hypocrisy and coldness. I'm glad you were able to choose your own path before it was too late._

_With love, Narcissa Black Malfoy_


	2. The Sorting Hat

**A Heart as Loud as Lions**

**Chapter One: _The Sorting Hat_**

The Great Hall was at the same time quieter and louder than usual, that year. It was 1991, and Harry Potter was among the scared first-years awaiting to be sorted. Of course, each House strongly hoped to claim the Boy-Who-Lived for them, and some of the oldest students – mostly Gryffindors – were even betting a few galleons on the result of his sorting. Whispers filled the big room, and even the professors couldn't sit still as Minerva McGonagall read the names in alphabetical order. She was at the letter H at the moment. The students could only produce forced, brief applauses. The result was a strange atmosphere, full of anxiety and anticipation, blurry and tense.

After Lisa Landon joined the Hufflepuff table and Isabelle Macon was assigned to Slytherin, it was Draco Malfoy's turn. Nobody really gave it a second thought, knowing the boy belonged to Slytherin, just like his whole family before him. The excitement grew, for only a few people were left before Harry Potter.

But something happened.

Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on Draco Malfoy's head, and the boy winced, as most first-years did. Then the Sorting Hat yelled its verdict. "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Great Hall exploded. Draco jumped up, throwing the Hat away. The stool fell. The Slytherins rose, enraged. The Gryffindors protested, horrified. Chaos reigned, until Professor Dumbledore blocked a hex fired by a Slytherin seventh year. Then the whole room froze.

"Students, go back to your House table. Mr. Malfoy, I assure you I understand your surprise, but the Sorting Hat always has a flawless reason for its choices, and I believe you should join your house-mates. Professor McGonagall, the other first-years are still waiting to be sorted..."

"Of course, Headmaster," the witch stuttered, looking over the young pupils. "Aaron Nixon is next."

The sorting resumed, in a still silence this time. Nothing that could be considered abnormal happened, and though the lions cheered when Harry Potter joined them, everyone's words were on the young Malfoy.

The boy in question was sulking at one end of the table, refusing to be in contact with his fellow mates. He was fuming. He was a Malfoy! What was the stupid hat thinking, placing him in Gryffindor! What would his father say? Draco was also scared. His mother had taught him good from bad, and he didn't like many of his father's ideals, but he also knew he couldn't do much about it. He was a Malfoy and a Black, and he was the only child of one of the most powerful pure-blood families. Certain things were expected from him, great things in fact, and he couldn't even start his school years in the right way!

It was the shortest dinner in Hogwart's history. The Head Girl and Boy were mature enough to help the professors maintain an apparent calm, but the atmosphere grew tenser as minutes passed, and when it was clear that only a few oblivious first-years were actually eating, the Gryffindor prefect Samantha Dorkin stood and walked to the professors' table, asking if they could all be dismissed. The professors, still quite taken aback by the unusual and unexpected events, were more than happy to oblige the request, and quickly asked the eight prefects to escort the younger students to their dormitories.

Samantha wasted no time in gathering the youngest lions, keeping her eyes fixed on Draco Malfoy. Being a muggle-born, she personally didn't care about Houses; one was sorted where he or she belonged, she believed, not where his or her parents had been sorted in. But she knew that most of her school-mates didn't see it that way, and the Malfoys were considered a 'Dark Family', though those words had no real meaning to Samantha. How could a child be blamed for his father's – or grandfather's, or even great-grandfather's – mistakes? Little Draco had nothing to apologise for, but much to be afraid of. For that reason, she intended to always be near him, ready to step between him and the many students that would, without a doubt, try to hurt him. Samantha was, though, distracted by the Weasley twins, two third-years, who were in fact ready to play a controversial prank on the blond boy. By the time she managed to stop them, intimidate them enough to make them leave, and detect two hexes fired by Slytherins before they hit their target, Draco was gone. Samantha looked around, tried to ask Oliver Wood if he had seen him, but quickly resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn't find him with so many people around. So, she escorted the first-years (minus Draco) to their dormitories, explained the rules and prepared herself for a sleepless night.

Meanwhile, Draco was casually walking in an apparently desert corridor of Hogwarts. He was proud of himself for having managed to escape the other students, but he was feeling off. He couldn't imagine what his mother and father would say when they heard of the sorting. He hoped they wouldn't show up at school and punish him. He also hoped they wouldn't send him a howler, although the latter option was better than the former. Maybe – and at the thought Draco's mind was allowed some ease – his father's power, money and connections would be enough to have Draco switched to Slytherin, where he truly belonged and where he was expected to be.

Draco continued his slow walk, not caring about getting lost in the unknown labyrinth that was the castle. He was thinking about his mother. He tried not to miss her, because eleven-year-olds (and Malfoys) weren't supposed to miss their mummies like little babies, but he did. His mother was always kind to him, unlike his father. Yes, she punished him sometimes, but she didn't _hurt_ him. And she never told his father! She also taught him a lot of interesting things, like geography, and traditions, and even foreign languages. And games! Draco loved to play games with his mother.

During his childhood, Draco had also learned a bit about politics and pure-blood families, but most of them were Slytherins, and none of them were Gryffindors. His father never talked about Gryffindors, he despised them. He said they were blind blood-traitors and that Dumbledore was full of luring lies. And now Draco was one of them!

"Going somewhere, traitor?"

Draco stopped on his tracks. A group of students was walking towards him. They were all older than him, and Draco thought he recognised one of them, he was a Pucey. Draco tried to stand taller. He brought his right hand to his wand, inside his robes pocket, ready to cast the few spells he knew.

"I don't think so, firstie. _Incarcerus_!"

Draco couldn't repress a scared yelp as his hands flew behind his back, tied together. His ankles attached to one another, and he fell, hitting the back of his head against the wall. For a moment he shut his eyes, praying not to shed any tear, but at the same time not caring if he did, because it hurt too much to hold it back.

"So much for being 'brave', uh, traitor? Such a little piece of scum, you are. What's next, crying for your mummy?"

The other students laughed, and Draco blushed. He was so embarrassed! How dared they treat a Malfoy like a dirty mudblood? Although, on a second thought, Draco did feel like a traitor. He was sorted into Gryffindor, after all, where all his family's enemies were. He couldn't stand it.

"Let me go!" he screamed. "My father will hear about this! And you'll be sorry!"

The laughter grew among the group of Slytherins, and Draco started to feel desperate as he hopelessly tried to free himself.

"We'll let you go, scum, but not before teaching you a lesson." Pucey told him with a scary grin. "_Crucio_."

"_Protego_!"

His heart in his throat, Draco glanced at his left. A girl was standing beside him, her wand raised, producing a shield between the two of them and the others. Draco noticed they seemed to be slightly afraid of her, although she clearly was younger than them.

"And what would _your_ father say, _Adrian_, when he hears you got expelled for using the _Cruciatus_ on a fellow student? After making sure he can't defend himself?"

The shield slowly disappeared, and the girl cast another spell in a lazy movement. "_Conjunctivitus_."

Adrian Pucey and his fellow Slytherins screamed and simultaneously brought their hands to their eyes, dropping their wands.

The girl smirked, and freed Draco of the invisible laces that tied him, before helping him to stand up.

"You'd better go back to the dungeons, boys. We wouldn't want Professor Snape to come seek you, would we?"

The five of them gasped in horror, then scampered off.

"I don't think they'll bother you again," the girl told Draco, "Not for a while, at least. Oh, and Professor Snape is the Potions professor, and he's Slytherin Head of House."

"I know," Draco said stiffly. "He's my godfather."

"Oh. Well, are you all right? Should I walk you to the Gryffindor tower? I'm in Ravenclaw. My name is Astraea Jameson."

"Jameson?" Draco repeated, realising she wasn't a pure-blood.

The girl – Astraea, what a wizarding name, he thought – arched her eyebrows in a somewhat frightening way, and Draco unconsciously took a step back.

"No, thank you. I'm all right. I can walk by myself."

"As you wish. Good night."

"Good night." Draco managed to let out before she disappeared. What a strange person she seemed.

_**x**_

Astraea went back to her common room. She had brief conversations with a few people, then she headed to the fifth-year dormitory. Astraea was actually supposed to be in fourth year, but she skipped a grade, so she would be taking her OWLS that year. Some people were jealous of her abilities, other were scared. All Astraea knew was that she had been able to do great things with her magic ever since her birth. Her parents and older sister always told her about how her accidental magic was so frequent and powerful that it not only left them astonished, but it also hurt them physically once or twice, due to its strength. Her mother claimed that it was as if Astraea's magical aura was constantly pulsating around her. Once at Hogwarts, Astraea had found out that not only she already knew all the theory behind the spells of more customary use, having watched her mother, but she also had no problems learning new ones. She always succeeded the first time, just like she could memorise at first sight every potion's preparation steps, history dates and facts, and plants properties. The Headmaster had offered her to be sent ahead of two school years, but she had only wanted to skip one, preferring to maintain some sort of low profile, although it was quite impossible. Everyone knew of her abilities with her wand.

Glad to be alone for the moment, Astraea changed into her muggle pyjamas, and sat on her bed with a blue quill and some parchment.

_Dear Mum, Dad and Dora,_

_since you wished to know where Harry Potter would be sorted, I'll tell you. He's a Gryffindor, like his parents, and he seemed happy and relieved about it._

_An interesting thing happened during the sorting ceremony, and I'm not talking about the hat's song. Draco Malfoy was sorted into Gryffindor as well. Of course no one, including him, took it well. Many Slytherins tried to hex him; Adrian Pucey even cast the Cruciatus Curse, but luckily I was following Draco and I cast a Protego in time, and he wasn't hit. The professors were also quite a bit shaken, but I hope for Draco's sake that they'll pull themselves together for classes._

_My first lesson, tomorrow, is double DADA with the new professor, Quirinus Quirrel. He has a good reputation and I'm excited._

_I'm sure Minny's writing her own letter to you right now, but I can't help but tell you about her sorting. She's a Lion! I was really expecting (and hoping) to have her in Ravenclaw with me, but apparently there's more to her than books, eh._

_I'll write again tomorrow,_

_Trae_

After carefully rereading her letter, Astraea stood up and attached the parchment to her Christmas Island Hawk Owl's paw. "There, Copper. Fly to Mum and Dad, girl."

She opened the window and watched it disappear in the night sky, then she returned to her bed, ready to sleep. She was worried about her sister and about Draco, but she resolved she couldn't do anything about it. Clearing her mind, exercise she did every evening, she gratefully embraced the silence of the empty room, and gave in to sleep.

_**x**_

Draco lay motionless on his bed, hidden by the curtains. The other boys in his dormitory hated him, and although they didn't try to attack him they had insulted him, especially that Ron Weasley, who, to make things worse, had claimed Harry Potter as his best friend. Draco had been ordered by his father to befriend the Boy-Who-Lived, and he had failed. Thomas and Finnigan weren't muggle-borns, thankfully, and all they did was ignore him, which was fine to him since he didn't plan to interact with them. On the other hand, Neville Longbotton was a problem. Draco knew what his Aunt Bellatrix had done to Longbottom's parents, and while he couldn't blame the other boy for being both scared and furious, he was annoyed by his attitude.

Draco brought his hand to the back of his head. It hurt, and he wished he could tell his parents about how those boys had hurt him, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure he was going to be disowned. For the first time in his life, Draco felt like he didn't have anyone to turn to. The few friends he had growing up were all sorted into Slytherin, and he was sure they would no longer talk to him. His parents would hate him. His godfather... Uncle Severus! Excited, Draco sat up abruptly, before remembering he wasn't allowed to wander around after curfew. For a moment he considered going anyway, because surely his uncle would excuse him... but he had no wish to cross the common room again, and he didn't know how to find the dungeons. And what if somebody attacked him again? The girl was in the Ravenclaw tower now, she couldn't protect him... Draco blushed again. He couldn't believe he had been saved by a muggle-born girl! He was ashamed. He hoped no one told his father, because Lucius hated cowardly, and Draco had been anything but brave that night, and if his father heard the story, he would punish him without a doubt.

Lying down again, Draco decided he would get up early the next morning, and look for the dungeons so that he could talk to his godfather. Surely he wouldn't turn him down. Uncle Severus had told him on multiple occasions that he would always help him if needed, that all he had to do was ask. So, despite his pride, the next morning Draco was going to give him his puppy-eyes look and ask.


	3. Alone

**A Heart as Loud as Lions**

**Chapter Two: _Alone_**

The next morning Draco startled himself awake by almost rolling out of bed. He sat up, short of breath, with wide eyes. After slowly regaining composure, he glanced outside the four curtains of the bed, and noticed that not only he was alone in the room, but it was also a lot later than he wished it was. His plan to talk to his godfather before breakfast would have to be put aside, as he barely had time to get dressed and eat something quickly before his first lesson, Transfiguration.

Draco hurried in the shower, wishing he could enjoy the warm water and the soft sponge. The soap smelled of an exotic flower that Draco didn't recognise, and that pleasantness brought a tiny but genuine smile on the boy's face. Once fully dressed, he headed to the Great Hall, grateful for the other students' absence: they were already at breakfast.

Draco took a wrong turn twice, but eventually managed to find the Hall. Every head turned to look at him, and Draco swallowed in agitation, glancing at the Slytherin table while he joined the Gryffindors. He sighed of relief when the other students were distracted by the morning post, but it was short-lived. Draco anxiously bit his lower lip and raised his eyes to the ceiling, scanning the owls. There it was. Regina, the Malfoy owl. It stopped over his head, dropped the letter on his empty plate, and grabbed a piece of bacon from a third-year student's fork before flying away.

Draco picked up the letter, holding it in his trembling hands. His fingers almost let it slip when he saw the official Malfoy seal.

He heard someone snort at his side.

"I bet ten galleons Malfoy Senior disowned his traitor, Forge."

"And I bet another five that the boy starts crying, Gred."

"Shut up! Draco, don't mind them..."

Looking up briefly, Draco saw the girl had a prefect badge, but he was too scared to thank her or start a conversation. His throat was completely dry and despite his best efforts his eyes were watery.

Shaking, and ashamed of himself, Draco tore the seal and unfolded the parchment.

_Draco, you are a disgrace to our family and to the Malfoy name. I regret your pointless existence, and I shall not hear from you again. You have ceased to be my son._

A second parchment was attached, and Draco hesitantly read it.

_I, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, hereby, at the presence of an authorized wizard lawyer and having swore on my magic, declare to disown my only son Draco Abraxas Malfoy, depriving him of the use of my surname, and prohibiting him access to the Malfoy Family Vault, the Black Family Vault and to his personal Vault, created by his grandfather Abraxas Malfoy at his birth to be managed by me in wait of his 17th birthday. That vault no longer exists._

Draco sobbed in horror, unable to stop the tears for even one more minute. Ha hadn't cried the night before, and sadness had built up inside him.

"Pay up, brother! I told you he would cry!"

"George Weasley!" Samantha Dorkin yelled, standing on her feet and bringing both her hands to her hips, in a posture that strongly reminded the twins of their mother. "50 points from Gryffindor!"

She then turned towards Draco and, oblivious to her mates' disdain and little Draco's embarrassment, she engulfed him in a hug and let him cry on her red-and-gold robes. When he calmed down enough to convince her to let go of him, Draco looked at the letter again. At the bottom, in his mother's neat handwriting, the words "_I, Narcissa Black Malfoy hereby disown my only son Draco __Abraxas__ Malfoy_" hurt more than anything else in the world.

Some endless minutes went by as Draco stared at the letter in his hands. His heart was heavy in his chest, and he felt cold and worthless. He barely sensed the new presence behind him, and jumped a little when warm fingers brushed against his shoulder in a gentle but unexpected touch.

"Come," a familiar voice ordered, and Draco obediently stood up and followed Professor Snape out of the Great Hall.

Despite his currently fragile state of mind, Draco couldn't help but focus his sole attention on Hogwarts. Professor Snape was leading him through hallways he'd wanted to visit since he was old enough to know of their existence.

"Are these the dungeons?" he asked, his young mind filled with curiosity. "Are you taking me to the Slytherin common room?"

"I'm afraid I cannot, Draco. We're going to my office. But yes, these are the dungeons, and if you turn left instead of right at the end of this hallway, you'll find yourself in the Slytherin common room and dormitories. I suggest that you do not go there."

"Oh." Draco's anxiety came back in a sudden wave. "Okay..."

"Go in." Snape's voice was firm and detached, but the push he gave Draco was gentle, and the short pressure on his shoulder relieved the boy immensely.

"Sit down, Draco." Snape quietly ordered, taking place on the opposite side of the desk. "May I see?" he asked, pointing at the letter that Draco was still holding.

Silently, the boy handed it over, tears prickling at his eyes.

The professor nodded once he finished reading. "Draco," he started, looking straight at his godson. "Do you understand what this document means?"

"My parents disowned me," he said, "I can't live with them any more and they're not considered my parents by the wizarding society and law. I can't claim as mine their houses nor their money, because it isn't my any more."

Snape nodded apologetically. "I'm sorry it happened, but it cannot be undone or changed. These things are, sadly, permanent. Draco, since you're not of age, you'll be meeting with the Headmaster and your Head of House later in the afternoon. I'll retrieve you after your last lesson and I'll walk you to Professor Dumbledore's office. He needs to discuss your future accommodation with you."

There was a grave pause. Draco couldn't find anything to say. He understood. He no longer had a family. He was alone, and he would stay alone, because who would bother to want a blood traitor like him?

"Draco, you must go now. But if you want to talk from time to time, stay after potion class and tell me. What's your first lesson today?"

"Transfiguration."

Snape nodded, and Draco watched him scribble something on a blank parchment.

"Give this to Professor McGonagall. It excuses your delay."

"Thank you, Severus."

He nodded, and walked Draco to the classroom in silence.

"Draco." Professor Snape called out before the boy could slip inside. "Remember to keep a low profile. Stay by yourself for the first weeks. Then when things have quietened down approach some Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff first-years. Half-bloods should be more accepting and understanding. And also remember" - pause - "that you are not your father."

With those last words the man turned around and quickly left. Draco bit his lower lip, fearing his entrance in the classroom. Taking a steadying breath, he turned the handle.

"Mr. Malfoy! Classes began almost twenty minutes ago! Weren't you given your timetable?"

"Yes, Professor." Draco stumbled to say. "Uh, I have Professor Snape's note."

The witch gave young Draco a disapproving look, but took the parchment and read it without another word. She motioned for him to sit.

Draco quickly scanned the room, finding that there was only one place available, close to a bushy-haired girl he didn't recognise. She glanced at him when he sat and frowned when he moved his chair farther away from her.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she whispered, her brows still arched.

Draco tried to hold back a disgusted grimace. Granger was a muggle surname, he would know it if it wasn't. Ignoring the girl, Draco took some parchment from his school bag, and began taking notes – or faking to. He tried to listen to Professor McGonagall, but there were too many things on his mind: his parents, his home, his meeting with the Headmaster. He didn't know what to expect, and even if he didn't want to admit it to himself, he was scared. He'd grown up with the constant presence of his parents, and now he had no one. How was he going to learn magic? And what about all the things his father had been teaching him? Who would tell him what to do now?

Finally, the class was over. The rest of the morning went by without any particular event. Although a few older students tried to upset him or even attack him, the girl who had comforted him at breakfast was always ready to step in, and Draco caught a glimpse of Astraea too, at some point. He sat alone at lunch – not that he ate much. He simply was too nervous.

Herbology was his only lesson that afternoon, and Draco was adamant for it to be over. The only problem was that the Slytherins would be there as well. While Draco knew the Slytherins hated him, he was hopeful about the first-years – they had been his friends, after all. He missed Pansy's girly talks, Crabbe and Goyle's ignorant grunts, Theo's smart answers to everything. He would do anything to be with them, where he belonged.

Professor Sprout arrived, greeted them, and explained what they were going to do. Draco caught her words only halfway through her speech, and found himself a little at loss as for what the lesson was about. He confusedly glanced at the other first-years, and paled a bit when he looked at Daphne Greengrass, and received a furious hiss in return. Her father and uncle were his father's allies, and Draco knew how powerful and revengeful they were.

"You're supposed to study the fungi with the microscope!"

Draco glanced at his left, surprised that someone was talking to him. He'd been in silence for hours, not having anyone to spend his time with after Severus had left him that morning.

The talker was the muggle-born girl from that morning, Granger. Draco automatically grimaced, but he felt guilty inside, knowing she was trying to help him. She wasn't a pure-blood, yes, but she wasn't attacking him, at least.

"We can work together, if you want. But do something! Professor Sprout is coming this way."

Draco felt two opposite forces pulling him in contrasting directions. One was pushing him toward the girl and the microscope, the other one was offering him a range of mudblood-related insults. The latter prevailed.

"I won't stoop so low as to work with a bothersome, filthy, foul mudblood," he venomously spat out.

"Mister Malfoy! Insulting your schoolmates is not allowed at Hogwarts! Especially if said insults revolve around one's blood status! I expect better from my students, Mr Malfoy. You'll serve detention with me tonight after your dinner, and I'd better hear from Ms Granger that you've apologised to her, or... or your Head of House will be informed."

Draco blushed and looked at his feet. He was so embarrassed! His father's punishments were much worse than that easy reprimand, but he'd never been scolded in public. In front of everyone! Draco could hear badly hidden laughters all around him, and he sensed his face redden even more.

"Silence." Professor Sprout gently ordered, resuming her stroll among the students.

Draco looked into the microscope for the rest of the lesson. He didn't dare look up, knowing he'd be met with either hate, scorn or disapproval.

When the last minute went by, Draco basically flew out of the greenhouse. He breathed out a relieved sigh when he saw that his godfather was already there. Professor Snape acknowledged him with a short nod, and Draco felt his lips curve in an almost imperceptible smile. With Severus around, he didn't feel too bad about his situation. He could perceive a little hope, past the man's dark and inexpressive demeanour.

In silence, Draco followed Professor Snape through the grounds, and inside the castle. Looking at Hogwarts from the outside was perhaps even more fascinating than being in its hallways.

Young Draco couldn't hold back a loud gasp when they stopped in front of two gargoyles. His godfather didn't comment.

"The Headmaster's office is past these gargoyles, Draco. I'm not coming with you, but you shouldn't worry. The password is _lemon drops_."

As soon as Snape said the two words, the gargoyles allowed Draco to walk on. He made a hesitant step, bit his lip, turned around.

"Go on, Draco. They are waiting for you."

Draco turned the knob and stepped inside the office.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy. Come in, come in. Sit down, please. Make yourself comfortable. We are having some tea, would you like some?"

Professor Dumbledore sounded nice enough, Draco decided, and he took place in the armchair in front of him with a shy nod.

"Here you are, Mr Malfoy," the Headmaster told him, pouring some tea in a white teacup. "Sugar? Milk?"

"Just-" Draco cleared his throat, embarrassed. He couldn't believe he was having tea with one of the most famous wizards of all history. "Just some sugar, please. Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome, young Draco."

"Headmaster, perhaps we should get to the point." Professor McGonagall, who had remained silent until that moment, said. "Dinner is not far away, and we don't want to arrive late."

"You are right as always, Minerva. Mr Malfoy, Professor McGonagall and I received an owl from the Minister this morning. He informed us that your parents have... disowned you. I was very sorry to hear that, Draco, and I want to express my deepest sadness to you. I'm sure you must feel very alone right now, and confused."

"I want you to remember that I am your Head of House, Mr – Draco. I will be available for you in any moment, should you need any advice, or someone to talk to. Of course, the same is true for all the other professors. I understand that Professor Snape is close to you – don't be afraid to approach him."

Draco nodded meekly, and drank some of his tea. It was hot, and it warmed him inside, giving him a sense of comfort after a long day spent watching his back.

The Headmaster took a sip as well, and continued. "Unfortunately, since you are under-age, Draco, your are required by our wizarding law to have at least one wizard parent, or at least temporary guardian. Your name is now present in a list of adoptable witches and wizards, and the Ministry department called _Adoption and Tutelage of Under-aged Wizard Children_ is taking care of finding a family for you. Normally, if no one steps up to be your guardian within a period of three months, you become a so called 'child of the Ministry', which means the ATUWC will take care of every decision concerning you until you turn seventeen. But, after I personally spoke with Minister Fudge, the period will be stretched to one full year. For your first year at Hogwarts, you'll be under the school's tutelage. Do you understand, Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, I am pleased to hear that. Draco, you may go now. Have a nice evening."

"Thank you, sir. You-you too." Draco stuttered, blushing slightly.

As Draco tried to reach his common room without getting lost, he let his thoughts wander. His father had always talked poorly about Dumbledore, expressing his low opinion of the man's choices, mixed with pure hatred for the society's adoration of the so-called head of the light. But the old professor had made a good impression on the young boy. He seemed... _caring_, something Draco had only experienced in presence of his mother, and only when his father wasn't around. Yes, Professor Dumbledore appeared to genuinely care for his students' well-being, and that further confused Draco. Why did he care? Why did it matter if he was under the school's tutelage instead of the Ministry's? Why did he offer him tea, and called him by his first name? Draco had been addressed with his last name, and nothing else, all day, but he was Draco in the Headmaster's office. And he didn't miss McGonagall's small smile, either. It wasn't as warm as the Headmaster's, and she did seem a bit sceptic about him, but it was there and Draco knew it was a lot to ask for from a Gryffindor. Yes – he, too, was a Gryffindor now, for some idiotic reason, but he also was a Malfoy, and a disowned one. He felt dirty and confused, and he definitely was out of place among the lions, so even the slightest of smiles made a difference.

Thinking over the brief meeting with the Headmaster and his Head of House, Draco ate his dinner, isolating himself like he did at breakfast, lunch and the previous night. Straight after dinner, he walked to the greenhouse, safely escaping Hogwarts's poltergeist's assault thanks to the keeper's arrival. Hagrid escorted him to Professor Sprout, who made him help her sort the plants for the next day lessons for a couple of hours, before sending him to his dormitory with one last half-stern, half-tender look.

Draco flew across the common room, ran up the stairs and closed himself in the safety of his four-curtains bed, where he fell asleep immediately.


End file.
